


Shadowfall

by JackOLanternTales



Category: Pathfinder (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Cults, Demons, F/F, F/M, Incest, Intrigue, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Multi, Murder, Parent/Child Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:27:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25243873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackOLanternTales/pseuds/JackOLanternTales
Summary: A young cultist who has long been a faithful servant of a Demon Lord has been granted great gifts for his loyalty. In exchange, he must come to rule over the bustling town of Shadowfall. Will he come to claim Counthood and lordship of the town, and more importantly, can he keep it?
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	1. The Fall

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set in a fictional world of my own creating. It shares the deities, demigods, and general lore of Pathfinder, but it does not take place in Golarion. Think of it as a different planet in the Pathfinder universe. Assassination, murder, mind control, and political intrigue will be prominent. You have been warned. Enjoy the show.

-I-

Caim Avistas sat in the corner of the tavern. He had chosen a dark corner and had worn a heavy cloak with the hood drawn. He did not want to be recognized. He was watching as his wife, the love of his life with her gleaming golden hair and bright blue eyes she had passed to their daughter, as she strummed and picked at her lyre, producing a lovely melody and singing a jaunty tune of merriment and limitless ale. Her Ode to Cayden Cailean, the god of ale, glory, and merriment, Caim recognized.

But he was not here to be merry. He had a suspicion about his wife that he wanted to have confirmed. The tunic she had worn this morning was not one of his own, he knew that for certain. But Caim was never one to act on impulse, so he wanted to be absolutely sure before he attempted to confront her.

For the past few months Beria Avistas had come home later and later, evident by her tendency to sleep in later and later, sometimes not awakening until it was time for dinner. Caim would awaken in the mornings to find the bed smelling of wine, and occasionally Beria would be fully clothed. She grew more distant and colder toward Caim, and unlike when they first had been in love, the only thing the two ever did in their bed was sleep. Still, he didn’t think anything of it for a long while, knowing that she had been bringing in more and more gold. He assumed she had been working harder and probably having a drink before leaving to take the edge off. There was no harm in that, and he still loved her in any case.

But last night she had come home reeking of a whole vineyard of fermented grapes and wearing a tunic that was not hers and was not Caim’s.

It was possible that she had misplaced the dress she had been wearing the night before. When drink was involved, people did silly things like dance naked on tables. Caim recalled doing something similar on their wedding celebration when he was still a young lad of barely seventeen. She may have stumbled into the tailor’s shop and bought a new shirt, or even gotten one from a patron in confusion. Her wearing another man’s shirt certainly didn’t have to mean she had been sleeping with him.

But Caim had never been much of an optimist, so he had little hope. He learned his pessimism early, as one day his father, an adventurer by trade, left his home on an adventure and never returned. Caim had been only seven. He then watched as optimism single-handedly drove his mother mad, who expected, until the day she died of illness when the boy had been fifteen, that her husband would return with untold riches one day.

Still, he found himself praying to Shelyn, his patron and the goddess of love, that it not be true, that his beloved Beria hadn’t betrayed his trust so brazenly. She was a good mother, and their daughter Orianna loved her dearly. After all that this life had done to Caim so far, he wanted to at least believe that it had begun to turn for the better, and perhaps it was just paranoia tormenting him with phantoms of insecurity.

But then he saw it happen. Beria finished her song, and a man approached her. He was a mercenary-looking sort. He had a suit of leather armor and a sword strapped to his back, his arms were covered in distinctive scars and he had a gruff look on his face. Wordlessly, he dropped a small bag of coins into Beria’s palm. She smiled at him.

“Oh, no. Beri, no,” Caim heard himself say, though even his own voice was somehow distant.

She walked with the mercenary through the tavern and toward a door at the back. The door opened into a bedroom.

“No, please,” Caim wasn’t sure who he was pleading to. Anyone, he supposed.

The door shut, his wife behind it.

Caim gritted his teeth in rage and sorrow. All of the late nights, the extra gold, the smell of wine, the shirt, it all came rushing back and all the pieces were falling into place like a demented jigsaw puzzle.

The chair beside him creaked as someone sat down in it.

“You don’t look so good,” the newcomer said. He turned to look at her, a lovely girl dressed in a silk cloak. Her hood, like his, was drawn but he could see a pair of heterochromatic eyes, one blue, one green, and long locks of snowy-white hair. As her skin was deathly pale, she almost looked like a ghost.

Caim thought about how to respond, and for some reason felt like he could trust this strange woman. “See that door?” he pointed to the closed door at the end of the tavern.

The woman looked, “I sure do.”

“My wife is in there with a mercenary.”

The woman nodded slowly, “I take it from your tone that you aren’t into that sort of thing then.”

He shot her a glare, and she immediately held up her hands. The innocent look she was giving Caim, in addition to the fact that she had apparently been completely naked under her robe, gave him startled pause. Her pale but decently sized orbs of flesh topped with soft pink nipples were on full display.

He turned his head away, “I’m not.” He decided to ignore her nudity for the moment, and just answer her question. “In fact, I’m furious and depressed all at once. I feel betrayed and helpless.”

“What do you want to do about it?” she asked. He thought about turning and asking her what business it was of hers, but strangely he couldn’t. Again, he felt like he could trust her.

“Part of me wants to just barge into that door and kill them both. But I’m afraid of what would happen to my daughter if I did.”

The woman grinned, an almost devilish smile, “I think I have something here you’ll like, then.” She reached into an inner pocket of her cloak and produced a small leather-bound black book with an imprint of a crescent moon on the cover. She placed it on the table in front of Caim along with a small glass vial full of a clear liquid. “I’ll just leave these here. Take a peak inside the book, you’ll find it most informative.”

The woman stood up as Caim examined the book, and was about to address her again, but she was gone when he looked up. The book was titled _Nocturne of the Dark Lady_ and Inside the cover of the book was a note scrawled onto the first page.

“The vial contains a poison that is colorless and odorless. It will kill within a minute of ingesting even a single drop. Once you have done what your heart desires, bring this book to the Lunar Eclipse tavern and show it to the bartender. If you have the urge to show this book to anyone else, just think about your daughter.”

For a long time Caim just sat there, contemplating what to do. He said it, didn’t he? He wanted to murder his wife for her betrayal. But that was impulse. Surely, he didn’t truly want it. Orianna would be devastated. He still loved Beria.

But as he glanced over to the vial a thought occurred to him. He could confront Beria, but that would likewise end in disaster. They would split apart, dragging Orianna between them. He would eventually have to tell Orianna what her mother had done, and she would be forced to pick sides between them. Caim didn’t want that.

Perhaps it truly would be better for him to let her continue to believe that her mother was a good person, and to let her love the memory of her, rather than learn to love the truth of her.

Caim would pick the fast-acting poison over the slow-acting one.

-II-

Caim waited, awake and alert for Beria to return home. As he waited he read the book, a collection of poems and songs that sung praises of a certain demon lord. There were occasional short stories as well, telling tales of hedonism, shadows, and cold-blooded murder. It also had essays that espoused the virtues of personal freedom, encouraging those who read it to cast off the self-imposed shackles of societal norms and of morality. The more he read, the more Caim grew to agree with the text.

When at last the door opened, he was there, sitting at the kitchen table.

“Caim?” Beria blinked. He could smell the wine from across the room. “What are you doing awake at this hour?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Caim said. “Smells like you’ve been drinking. Would you like some water?” he asked.

“That would be lovely, dear.”

He was glad that he had turned around to grab the mug of water by that point, because hearing her call him “dear” was like a dagger thrust into his side, it made him wince and grit his teeth. But he composed himself as he silently and stealthily poured in the contents of the vial.

He gave her the mug and she took a long draft of it, downing the whole thing.

Caim spent a moment just looking at her, staring at her golden hair, brilliantly blue eyes, lightly freckled skin. He took it all in because this was likely to be the last time he would ever see her alive.

“Caim? What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I know what you did tonight. And I know that you’ve been doing it for months now.”

She cocked an eyebrow, “Well, yeah, I’ve played my lyre every night for years now.”

Caim shook his head, “Oh, and I suppose you brought that mercenary into the inn room so you could give him a private performance?”

Her eyes widened, and the tension in the room became thick. There was silence that got cut off suddenly as her hand went to her stomach while she winced with pain. Realization was dawning on her as she stared at the mug.

“What have you done?” She asked, breathily.

“What’s best for our daughter. Do you know what I will tell her? I’ll tell her you left on an adventure.”

-III-

After burying the body in a field far away from his home, he immediately heeded the instructions of the letter and went to the Lunar Eclipse tavern. He wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway after what he had done.

When he arrived and showed the bartender the book he was ushered into the basement of the inn, which was hidden in the wine-cellar. What he found there was a darkly decorated wide-open room full of people that he recognized from the town. Not all of them he knew by name, but some of them, including some rather important folks like the captain of the guard, one of the wealthier merchants, and even one of the advisors to the lord and count of the town.

He was welcomed among these people as though he had been family, especially after he revealed that he had murdered his wife to enter. The snowy-haired girl was nowhere to be found, but he was soon approached by a beautiful bronze-skinned woman who introduced herself as Ruby. It didn’t take long to discover why, as her eyes sparkled like the gemstone that was her namesake.

“Allow me to officially welcome you into our fold,” Ruby said, smiling brightly, “I do hope you’ll take part in the initiation. You’ve already done the hard part, or so I hear.”

“My heart is broken, and my former life is in shambles,” Caim said. “All I have left is my daughter. Tell me, will she be safe?”

“We will ensure no harm ever comes to her. Each member of this cult is like family. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Will you force her to join you when she becomes old enough?”

Ruby shook her head and stepped forward, placing one of her soft hands on Caim’s rugged and haggard cheeks. “You need not worry, my friend, all of us came here of our own free will. Have you read the book yet?”

“Some of it.”

“Then you know that our Mistress favors personal freedom. All you have to do is ensure she never becomes a danger to us. Can you do that?”

Caim thought about it, couldn’t see any way that would happen, and nodded.

“Then let us begin the initiation.”

That night, wishing to turn over a new leaf and begin his life anew, he denounced his patronage to Shelyn the goddess of love and beauty; and instead turned to the Demon Lord Nocticula, mistress of lust, darkness, and murder. The only thing his former patron shared in common with his new dark queen was their love of art. Though from this day forward, Caim’s art would take a dramatic dark turn.

In the years that followed, Caim would become one of Nocticula’s most devoted followers.


	2. The Lady in Shadow

-I-

Ten years had passed. The people living in the sleepy town of Shadowfall would tell you that the last decade had been a good one, overall. Ale was cheap, the guards did their duty, thieves were an occasional annoyance but never a frequent problem, and only one bandit raid had ever taken place in that time. But a cold, thick fog of uneasiness had blanketed the town since Count Nadeth Damast, the lord and ruler of the town, died in his sleep. He had been taken by illness for nearly a week, an illness that nobody within Shadowfall could seem to cure no matter what methods they used.

When the news had finally reached Caim Avistas, who had grown to an adult of thirty-three years of age, he would smile to himself as soon as nobody else was around. After all, the reason nobody could cure the Count’s strange illness was that he had not been diseased; Caim had poisoned him and had done the deed while painting a portrait of the Count a week prior. It had been as easy as asking the Count for a drink of water as he sat, a willing model and unwitting victim.

He made sure to wipe away the smile from his face as he returned home, opening the door and doing his best to look somber.

His daughter was there in the kitchen, reading a book like she usually was. Caim would note how strange a coincidence it was that she always sat in the spot he had been sitting in ten years ago when his wife returned home for the last time. To further the strangeness of the coincidence she was doing the same thing he had back then, reading.

“Father,” she smiled and sprung up, laying the book down on the table and bounding over to him. When she reached him she practically leapt into a hug.

“Oh, Ori my lovely girl, did you miss me?”

“I always miss you, Father,” she said, giving him a peck on the lips and smiling brightly. She had to stand on her toes to give the kiss, she had grown to become a lovely young lady of sixteen but had still been a head shorter than Caim, who was by no means unusually tall.

As Orianna turned back to the table, her sundress whirling around her legs as she did, Caim noted that she had grown in other ways besides height. It was frankly a father’s worst nightmare, his daughter had ended up beautiful, to Caim she was even more gorgeous than her mother had been. She had his own jet black hair and pale complexion, but her mother’s freckles and icy blue eyes. And she had, he could not help but to admit, healthy proportions for a lady her age, in particular around her bust. It drove Caim mad with paranoia and made him happy that the girl seemed to have inherited his own shyness and preference to stay home, and not her mother’s desire to spend every night drinking at the tavern.

Still, it baffled him. She had not ever expressed interest in men, or women for that matter. All she ever wanted was to read her books. This was not because of any particular way Caim had raised her, it just happened that way. She never even approached him with the topic of sex, even though he had been dreading that moment ever since he noticed her chest begin to swell four years ago.

“How are you, father?” She asked after sitting back down in her spot.

“I don’t know,” he said, “I just received some dreadful news.”

Orianna was about to peer back into her book, but now looked at him curiously.

“The count has died,” he finished.

Orianna gasped put her hand up to her mouth, “That’s terrible! Lady Perinne must be devastated.”

Perinne Damast was the count’s daughter, and now that Caim considered it, she was also made an orphan by this development. Her mother died giving birth, and the count had fathered no other children by her. Caim supposed that meant the young Perinne would be the countess now. Orianna was suddenly looking off into the distance, her thoughts clearly elsewhere, Caim thought he had an idea where they were.

“You are thinking about your mother, aren’t you?” he asked.

“No, not at all.” She looked flustered, as though she had been caught in act of thievery. Caim found some strange morbid amusement in the fact that Beria had a similar look when he had accused her of cheating on him.

“There’s no shame in it,” Caim assured her.

“I wasn’t,” she said emphatically, “I was actually thinking of how devastated I would be to lose _you_.” Orianna made no effort to deny the fact that she resented her mother, for all she knew their mother had simply left and never returned, abandoning her family. But of course, Beria had still been her _mother_ , and Caim had no doubt Orianna had difficulty coming to terms with the fact that she still loved her in spite of what she’d done.

Caim harbored nothing but resentment for his late wife, the only real regret he truly had was that his daughter had grown up largely motherless. So, he was secretly happy that his daughter resented her as well, even if it was for different reasons.

“Well,” Caim began, hanging up his cloak and frowning slightly, “I shall retire to my studio. I might rest my head a while as well.”

Orianna nodded.

At one point Caim’s bedroom and his art studio were two separate rooms. A few summers ago he decided to knock down the wall that separated them, combining them into one large room. The room was certainly more of a studio than living quarters now, the walls and tables cluttered with various painting supplies, canvas, and half-finished and fully-forgotten works he had no intention of ever looking at in more than a cursory way again. Caim actually disliked the clutter, and would be happy to make sure everything was neatly tidied away, but he had to look like a distraught lone artist whose wife abandoned him and his daughter. Not only that, the clutter was convenient, as it made hiding other things much easier.

One of those hidden things was what he was looking for now. A small bottle that contained thin, dried mushrooms. He smiled when he found it. This would be a reward for a job well done, a murder successfully committed on behalf of his dark mistress. He threw one of the bitter-tasting fungi into his mouth and crunched down on its exterior. He chewed it and swallowed every last bit.

The mushroom was known colloquially as “demon’s kiss” and was rather appropriately a favorite of Nocticula’s cultists. The dreams it bestowed upon the consumer were darkly vivid, typically visions of lust, heat, and depravity in all forms. It was used by initiates to discover their deepest, darkest desires; and it was used by more veteran members of the cult to help fuel their art. Caim had planned to paint whatever visions came to him today in his next piece.

With a soft smile he began to feel the drowsy effects of the fungus almost immediately. He returned the bottle to its hiding spot and crawled onto his bed, ready to let the darkness swallow him whole and his dreams whisk him away.

-II-

The Lunar Eclipse tavern hadn’t changed much. It was a cozy cobblestone-walled tavern with darkwood framing. It wasn’t the most popular place in town to get ale, primarily because the place was directly adjacent to the town’s graveyard. Nobody wanted to have a good time and kick back their feet next to the honored dead. Nobody except a very special crowd, the exact crowd that Seirke Mirsephone was looking for.

Unbeknownst to the currently dreaming Caim, the very same woman who had given him the fateful poison was walking the flagstone path leading up to the tavern. She had the same snowy-white hair, the same silk cloak—under which she was still nude—, and the same heterochromatic eyes peering out from the same hood. The strange elven woman that Caim had met that fateful night, and to whom he had always wanted to speak at length, was very close to him now, within Shadowfall itself.

The tavern was empty save for the bartender. His short stature but wide frame betrayed him to be a dwarf, but unlike the vast majority of his kind he had no beard, nor any signs of hair at all. He was covered instead with many ornate tattoos, among them were more than a few depictions of moons and bats, and Seirke knew exactly why that had been.

“Afternoon, good dwarf,” Seirke greeted cheerfully.

The man cocked an eyebrow at her, “Likewise, I suppose. What brings an elf like you to a place like this? I’d think your kind would be better off at someplace livelier.” He nodded in the general direction of the graveyard.

Had Seirke been an ordinary elf he might have had a point, and on instinct she disliked being so close to a place of death. But she was no ordinary elf.

“Well, I heard this was the best place to find third era wine.”

He blinked and looked at her more closely. “I might have a few casks, all from different places. Any idea what you might be lookin’ for?”

“Something from The Midnight Isles,” Seirke replied, “specifically the city of Alushinyrra.”

The dwarf nodded, “You know your stuff, come with me and let’s have a look.” After he took a quick look around the tavern floor, ensuring that nobody was watching, and nobody was, he led her from behind the bar through a door to the cellar.

Descending the stairs, Seirke noted how well-used they were, even more than one might expect even from a tavern. What she found at the bottom was indeed a cellar, complete with barrels stacked atop each other, some looking newer than others, and a latticework series of shelves containing bottles of wine. There was a linen rug tossed on the floor, rather unceremoniously, and the dwarf grunted as he knelt down and tossed the fabric aside, revealing a hatch.

Once he had completed his task, he turned to the elf and favored her with a smile, “You’re the one they call the initiator, ain’t ya?”

She nodded, “Yes, but that career is behind me. Right now, I’m here as a messenger, after I deliver my message I will be a courier, but once I make my delivery I’ll have an entirely new role.”

There was a dark gray flash of suspicion from the dwarf, and it was not in his expression. His expression was stony and unreadable, he was an excellent gatekeeper. But Seirke was no ordinary elf, and though the dwarf did not know it, she could sense what was in his mind. She had spent many years practicing and improving her empathic and telepathic powers. She was always able to sense the general emotions of those around her if she wasn’t distracted. If she concentrated, she could even detect their surface thoughts and get a sense for what they were thinking. If she focused entirely on the task of probing someone’s mind, she could even find their deepest secrets, but this was something that took considerable time and so much concentration the very act itself would be suspicious.

The dwarf’s own suspicion faded quickly, it was a gut reaction, and a good one in this man’s line of work. “I take it you can’t tell me anything?”

“I can, but leaving it as a surprise would be much more fun,” Seirke replied and giggled with almost childlike glee, “I can give you a hint though, you’ll be seeing a lot more of me from now on.”

The dwarf nodded, “Your business be your own then.” He then gestured to the hatch, “Head down there. You’ll want Ruby, she’s in charge.”

“Thank you, good sir,” Seirke smiled enchantingly and knelt down to the hatch. She could have easily opened it with her psychic powers, but decided this was the wrong person to show off to. Besides, her mind, body, soul, and powers were not hers to use anymore, and never again would be. Instead, she opened it manually, reaching her arms out of her cloak to expose her nudity.

The dwarf caught sight of this, and though there was momentary surprise on his face, there was no blush of shame or even lust. With the company he kept, such would be an odd reaction indeed. Instead he simply turned his gaze back to the stairs, “I’ll be taking my leave then. See you soon, elf.”

Seirke waved as she hopped down and descended the ladder into the basement of the Lunar Eclipse, knowing that this was where all the fun happened. Once at the bottom she closed the hatch with a rope and followed a narrow passage to an ornate door. She opened it and peered within. Unlike Caim’s first visit, which had been at the dead of night, the room was nearly empty save for a single occupant, a bronze-skinned woman by the name of Ruby.

“Seirke!” the woman smiled wide when she saw the snow-haired elf, her red eyes glittering with genuine delight, and Seirke’s empathic powers confirmed as much.

“Ruby, it’s been too long. How many years?” Seirke asked. She knew the answer, but it was a polite thing to ask.

“Ten years, initiator. You’re the one who brought Caim Avistas into our fold,” she reminded, sauntering her currently nude form to Seirke and embracing the cloaked figure in a friendly hug.

“Indeed, but I’m not here as an initiator today. Right now I mean to deliver a message directly from our Lady in Shadow.”

Ruby’s face took on a pouty expression, one that seemed to say “you’re no fun”, though Seirke could sense the bright reddish-purple heat of the exotic beauty’s desire for her, “Can’t it wait until we have some fun? It’s been far too long.” Ruby’s lips inched closer to Seirke’s own.

The elf’s slender finger pressed itself upon her friend’s mouth, stopping its approach, “Afraid not. I’m on a tight schedule. And my body is not mine to share with you right now. Until I finish my tasks, I belong to our mistress.”

Ruby was feeling reluctant, but she pulled away at last, “Very well, what is your message then?”

“As it happens, it’s about Caim,” Seirke began and looked deep into Ruby’s eyes with her own heterochromatic ones. This act was not only to ensure that Ruby knew she was serious, but also to concentrate so that if there was even a hint of unrest in Ruby’s mind at what she was about to say, she would know it. “He has been chosen and favored by Nocticula. All of your resources will be his, should he need them.”

Bright yellow shock was the emotion Seirke sensed in her old friend first, then it faded to stark white intrigue. This went well with the thought that bubbled to the forefront of her mind which was simply: “interesting, I wonder what my lady’s game is”. This was a safe thought, and it was followed, much to Seirke’s relief, by equally safe and similarly mundane thoughts. There wasn’t a hint of betrayal, and Seirke was happy about this because she was instructed to kill the woman if she sensed any such thoughts and she had rather enjoyed Ruby’s company.

“If it is by the will of Our Lady in Shadow, it shall be done,” Ruby replied, nodding respectfully, “is that all you needed me for?”

Seirke shook her head, “I’d like to know where Caim lives, I’m not familiar with this place.” Seirke felt a surge of excitement. Caim’s life was about to get much more interesting, and she was going to be at his side experiencing it all. The two of them were about to make history.

-III-

Caim was drifting in shadow. He felt calm, serene, quieted, and relaxed. The eyes of his dreaming self were closed, and when he opened them, he found himself wondering if he even had. What greeted them was nothing but darkness as far as he could see. He was floating in a void, and though he could see his own body as though it were illuminated from all angles at once, he could spy nothing else.

Until he did.

In the distance something approached him. He watched with interest as the pale dot become a pale line, then the line became a vague humanoid figure, then he felt his mouth water as he realized the figure had a stunning figure, then he felt reverence when he recognized what this entity must be.

She had raven black hair, long and twisted into seven horn-like spirals coming from the top of her head. She had skin like the full moon, glistening and pale, eyes of silver, and dark makeup. Her breasts swayed and bounced as she strode toward him on legs that terminated with hooves that looked like stone oozing with molten metal. A pair of wings, burned with hundreds, possibly thousands of runes glowing like fire, stretched from her back and bobbed as she approached. She was wearing almost nothing, just a thin loincloth covering her lower region and a pair of metal plates over her perfectly-shaped teats, Caim assumed they must have been held there by a piercing that went through her nipples, and even just imagining what her nipples might look like under them was enough to bring the man to full erectness before her dark beauty.

He knew at once that he was gazing upon the likeness of his patron Nocticula herself.

“Caim Avistas,” her voice was like silk the color of moonlight, low and infinitely seductive. She said his name like she was making out with the words, and even that was enough to make his cock twitch with agonizing pleasure.

“My lady,” he managed in a voice that sounded to his own ears as sleepy and hoarse, “I am not only honored to have you visit my dreams, but to have you even know my name brings me untold joy.” And in truth, it did. To be acknowledged by this demon lord whom Caim had worshipped like a goddess was something that he had always dreamed of since becoming her faithful servant.

“While I am more than happy to accept your compliments, I must remind you that I prefer my servants to be slaves to nothing, least of all their own sense of humility. You have been an excellent follower of my teachings, an instrumental tool in spreading my influence, and today you have given me a great gift. Take pride in your accomplishments and enjoy the fruits of your labor.”

As she said this, she lifted a hand to Caim’s face, her fingers were tipped with long, claw-like nails which she used to lightly scrape along his cheek, spreading a warm feeling of satisfaction through his skin like fire.

“Thank you for your kind words, Mistress.” He replied, smiling.

She favored him with her own enchanting smile which sent shivers down his spine and made his throbbing member stiffen even more. “Indeed, what you have done today alone has earned you this meeting. The death of the Count is a major victory for my followers, and one that will be remembered for centuries to come. Your contribution is the first big step toward a successful campaign in this region of the Material Plane.”

Caim nodded and couldn’t stop himself from letting his gaze wander from her gorgeous face. He didn’t think she would mind; she had always taught her followers to be honest with their desires. His eyes caressed her pale and delicious figure, tracing the curve of her breasts and following each and every subtle jiggle they made as his patron made her subtle and seductive movements. In spite of this ogling, he found himself capable of listening perfectly to what she was telling him.

“It is not quite enough, however, that I have the Count’s soul in my possession, though it is a fine gift. I want what he owned. I want Shadowfall.”

Caim thought he understood quite well what she was getting at. Now that the Count’s daughter was to be the ruler, she wanted to initiate her.

“Not quite,” Nocticula said having read his thoughts. She put a hand on her womanly hip and giggled slightly, making her teats wobble, “I don’t want an initiate on the throne of Shadowfall, I want a veteran whose loyalty to me I know is unflinching and unwavering. Luckily for us, young Perinne is not the countess yet, Shadowfall has very specific rules about that. No, in order to be the count or countess the surviving heir must be married.”

Now Caim understood, “Perinne’s family will be rushing to find a suitor then, am I to help them find the correct one?”

Nocticula shook her head and smiled patiently, a gesture Caim knew she was making in spite of not looking at her face, his eyes had wandered to her loincloth, trying desperately to imagine what lay beneath, and how perfect his dark mistress’ sex must be. “None of the potential suitors they would select for her would be ideal. None of them are my followers. But that’s just fine, I intend to make a suitor of my own.”

At this Caim finally looked up into Nocticula’s silvery eyes, unable to hide an expression of confusion. Was she about to invent a noble pedigree from thin air? That might have been quite a dangerous game.

Once again seeming to read his mind, Nocticula chuckled, a sound like the strings of a harp being plucked, “I won’t have to invent anything. You see, Count Nadeth Damast was a paranoid father who loved his daughter dearly and wanted to secure her future happiness.” Caim found that he could relate, but this similarity did not raise any remorse in his act. “In a twist of rather delicious irony, he has instituted a law that has made her more vulnerable to our plans in the spirit of protecting her from harm. The law states that while the noble house of Damast is free to suggest and introduce his daughter to any potential suitors they like, Perinne and Perinne alone will make the final decision as to who she marries, and the house may not intervene on her true desires. This law makes no mention of pedigree or noble lineage, the one she chooses may be anyone, even one of common birth.”

“Ah, so you intend to have her fall in love with one of your followers. That is very wise, my Mistress,” Caim said, his gaze had lowered again, and he was delighted to see that the pale demon was caressing her own breast with her hand, teasing him with the sight and making his erection throb almost painfully.

Nocticula nodded, “Indeed that is what I plan. As you know, there two followers of mine planted within the keep as servants. One of them is the court advisor, and the other is young Perinne’s own personal maidservant, who has been helping raise her since she was a small child. Though, grooming may be a more appropriate term. She has ensured that the Count’s daughter will be smitten with whomever we wish her to.”

Caim was frankly amazed and a little frightened at how handily Nocticula had set up everything, seemingly years in advance of the Count’s actual death. “Expertly done, my lady,” he said, nodding while continuing to favor her erotic form, “I presume that since you are informing me of this plan, you intend for me to play a role in this. May I know who Perinne’s suitor is to be so I can aid them however I can?”

Once again, Caim felt the tips of Nocticula’s claws on his face, this time on his chin, the slight prickling gently urging his face to meet hers. She was smiling in an expression of warmth and slight amusement.

“Ten years ago, when you joined my followers, you did so at a great price. Not only did you choose to render yourself a widower, you made the difficult decision of leaving your only daughter motherless. You gave to me your lover, and you gave to me your marriage. I have never forgotten these gifts you have given me, and I have always intended to repay them in full.”

It took Caim a moment to understand why she had said this in response to his question, but it finally dawned on him after a moment of staring into his patron’s glittering silver eyes, “You intend for me to be Perinne’s suitor.”

“A bride for a bride,” Nocticula replied, “that is the mission I impart upon you, and you can expect the full cooperation of my other followers in Shadowfall to accomplish this task. They are yours to use however you need, and however you wish. In addition, I have sent one of my most loyal servants to you with gifts that will help you along the way, she should be paying you a visit as soon as you awaken.”

“This is more than I deserve, my lady,” Caim replied.

“Make no mistake, the most daunting part of this task lays ahead, these are by no means gifts freely given, you must earn them. I am not handing you the throne of Shadowfall on a silver platter, I am simply giving you the ability to take it yourself. It is still a dangerous mission, but the rewards will be great. And should you complete the task…” Nocticula brought her clawed hands down to Caim’s groin. She did not touch his member, but instead twirled her fingers near it in a way that merely suggested a caress, but this was enough. Caim began to ejaculate intensely and feverishly, groaning in pleasure as he did. He climaxed harder than he ever had before, and all it took was the mere suggestion, the mere idea of his dark lady’s touch. “If you should complete the task, I may allow you to do far more than just imagine my touch when next I appear in your dreams.”

It was with these sweet and honeyed words that she began to vanish from view, melting into the surrounding darkness once more. “Go well, my favored one, fulfill your destiny.”


End file.
